For many sunless days an icy blast came from the Mountains in the east,and no garment seemed able to keep out its searching fingers. …Theyslept uneasily during the middle of the day, in some hollow of theland, or hidden under the tangled thorn bushes that grew in thickets inmany places. In the late afternoon, they were roused by the watch, andtook their chief meal: cold and cheerless as a rule, for they couldseldom risk the lighting of a fire. </p><p>

1 Yule 3018 SR

</p><p>

A jingly thump awoke Frodo from a pleasant dream of his Aunt DoraBaggins urging him to take his fill of ginger snaps and mince pie.

Frodo muttered a reply and jerked his blanket free of Pippin's fumblingattempts to untangle himself from Sam's cooking utensils. Wrapping hisblanket over his head, he attempted to return to sleep. Aunt Dora'sbaked goods, dream though they might be, would certainly be better thanthe cold, cheerless meal he'd soon eat. But Sam's voice, laced withirritation, put paid to his hope of snatching a few more winks.

"If he's made a dent in my best kettle, I'll give his share of…"

"Sam!"

With a groan, Frodo opened his eyes in time to see Sam drop an armloadof firewood and clap his hands over his mouth. As two of the sturdierlogs landed on his toes, Pippin yelped and fell to land atop Sam's packonce again.

"His share of what?" Frodo could not resist teasing.

"Never you mind, Mister Frodo." Sam pulled Pippin to his feet, and setabout starting a fire. "You'll find out soon enough. Strider said wemight have a bit of a fire and a late start. So Master Merry and Ithought it'd be best to go ahead with the celebrating tonight. Given wedon't know for certain if we'll be havin' a fire tomorrow."

"Celebrate?" Frodo asked.

"Here's part of it, Sam," Merry said, pulling a paper wrapped bundle from the depths of his pack.

"And I've got the other. If Mister Pippin hasn't squashed it all to jelly."

"Just what is it you've got, and what are we celebrating?" Frodo demanded.

"His brains have turned to icicles," Pippin said with a grin. "AndBilbo gave me a bundle too. So we'll have plenty to share with the BigFolk."

"You've all determined to drive me mad," Frodo declared.

"Now, Mister Frodo," Sam replied patiently. "It's only a few specialtreats Mister Bilbo gave us. Onliest thing is I'm wondering if weshould eat them all, or save some for another day."

"Now," said Pippin immediately. "They'll only spoil if we wait."

Merry looked thoughtful, then said, "Now. Shared nine ways, there'll belittle enough for each of us anyway. And we've got the fire tonight."

"Splendid!" cried Pippin, beaming from ear to ear. "Why, I suppose even Strider can't say no to chestnuts and nibbles."

"Indeed he won't."

The somber voice startled all four hobbits, and they looked up to seeStrider emerging from the gathering twilight. Pippin's smile faltereduntil he saw the twinkle in the Ranger's eyes.

Frodo could not help a weary smile as he watched Pippin eagerly get inSam's way. Between swats at the youngest hobbit's fingers, Sam arrangedthe makings for their meager celebration: a bag of chestnuts, a packageof ginger snaps - "Baked by the elves at Rivendell, Mister Strider " -and last but not least, an odd little metal contraption with adetachable handle.

Strider disappeared back into the dark, presumably to keep watch andpossibly to consult with Gandalf on tomorrow's march. Moments later, atromping of heavy feet announced Boromir's return. The Steward's sonappeared from the dusk, his brawny arms laden with a bundle of firewoodnearly as large as two hobbits wrapped together, which he dropped witha great, woody clatter.

"Well!" the tall man said, as he dusted off his hands. "What have we here?"

"A chestnut roaster," said Sam, frowning as he attempted to thread the handle onto the flat metal pan.

"A what?" Laughter rang in Boromir's reply, and he flung himself downto sit. "Now that's something I'd never expect to see out here."

"But we are speaking of hobbits," a new voice said, and Legolas nextappeared, setting down his firewood even as mirth danced in his cleareyes. Straightening, the elf added, "And we know that no sensiblehobbit fares into the wild unprepared."

Gimli's deep voice huffed with laughter as he dropped another bundle ofwood and gently took the roaster and its handle from Sam's hands.Squinting at the contraption and muttering something about the qualityof the metal hinge, the dwarf deftly twisted the handle into place.

"Now, then," chided Sam, accepting the roaster from Gimli with a nod ofthanks. "There's no need to poke fun. After all, just because we'recold and tired and the legs run half off us doesn't mean we have toforget where we came from."

"Besides," said Merry, "it's Yule, and what's Yule without chestnuts?"

Sighing, Pippin propped his chin in his hand. "Not as good as a Yulewith hot cider and mince pie and a mug of beer at The Green Dragon. Butit's better than no Yule at all."

Frodo laughed, the sound and sensation a rarely refreshing feeling."Chestnuts it shall be. Sam, do hand me the ginger snaps and a plate,and I shall serve."

"Oh, no, Mister Frodo!" cried Sam. "Why -."

"Hush you, Sam," said Frodo gently. "It's been too long since I've played the host for friends."

Thus, while Sam prepared the chestnuts, Frodo carefully drew theonly-somewhat-broken biscuits from their wrapping and arranged themprettily for serving. How their rich fragrance rose to tease his sense,even now, cold and so far from home. If he but closed his eyes aninstant, he could imagine the merry hearths of home and voices singingcheer in the lanes, whilst clear stars danced and hobbit cheeks glowedwith good spirits. If only...

"I'm sorry, Legolas. I fear I'm wearier than I thought. Here, let me set these out for everyone."

A poor sort of gift it seemed, a single plate of trail-worn biscuitsfor nine hungry mouths, when by rights there should be a feast thatfilled the tables to groaning. Yet all politely partook, nibbling withthe cautious enjoyment of people who knew not when such pleasure mightcome again. Merry briefly left to carry a portion out to Strider andGandalf on watch.

"Elvish baking?" asked Boromir, holding the remnant of his treat forstudy. "I would not imagine the elves troubling themselves with sohomely a thing."

"Well now," said Sam, "I don't know how elves do at home, but LordElrond's folk baked these from Mr. Bilbo's very own recipe. He wantedthem sent along special just in case."

Laughing, Legolas asked, "In case of what? In case we were starved andperishing in some desolate place, and only ginger biscuits could saveus?"

"Oh, now." Chuckling, Legolas favored Sam with a smile. "If we cannotlaugh at misfortune or its threat, what good is laughter at all?"

Sam pondered and Pippin chuckled, while Frodo caught Merry's eye andsmiled. Sam then nodded, and gave the chestnut roaster a shake in thecoals.

"That's not so bad, I suppose," he said.

"Of course not!" said Merry. "Besides, my old gran always said thatginger snaps smell like home. A hobbit is never but a sniff away fromwhere he belongs."

The conversation swiftly turned to other gastronomical winter delights,but Frodo, for his part, only half-listened, staring sleepy-eyed intothe dance of the flames. After a time, he realized Sam had pulled thechestnut roaster from the fire and set the pan to cool, much to theeager anticipation of Merry and Pippin. They glanced up as Strider andGandalf appeared in the fire's light, the fading glow of twilightgiving way to twinkling stars above their heads.

"Look, Gandalf!" exclaimed Pippin. "We're having roasted chestnuts."

"Indeed." Gandalf's eyes twinkled as he bent his knees and sat,organizing himself comfortably before setting his pipe in his teeth."It is a wise fellow who plans ahead for such a treat on a chilly nightlike this."

Sam's cheeks grew even rosier as he set the chestnuts, now cool enoughto touch, upon a plate. "Well, we've more, so I'll just set those toroast whilst you all start with these. Mind now, they're hot!"

A brief quiet descended while various fingers busied themselves withpeeling the nuts from their hulls. As Frodo bit into the firm, warmflesh, the sweet flavor seemed to warm him through and through.

"It tastes like home."

Frodo looked up with a start as he realized Boromir had spoken, the manslumped in a reflective pose, an elbow on his knee, as he looked at thehalf-eaten chestnut in his grasp.

"Why, yes," said Sam. "Yes, I suppose it does."

Frodo imagined he felt a sort of group sigh pass among them, as eachcontemplated things far away. Even Strider, sitting silent in theshadows with only the glow of his pipe to show his whereabouts, seemedlost in pensive thought.

"Then I know what we should do," said Frodo, and he smiled as theothers looked at him. "As we have no Yule gifts to give, I think weshould each tell a story."

"Splendid!" said Merry. "What sort of story should it be?"

"A good story," said Frodo. "Something happy and cheering that makes you smile."

"Does it have to be a story about the teller?" asked Pippin.

"No," Frodo replied with a smile. "Just any story you know or have heard that feels good to tell it."

"I think that's an excellent idea," said Legolas.

"A most admirable idea," Gandalf seconded.

"Who shall begin it?" asked Boromir.

"I will," Gandalf said, and puffed his pipe. "I think I shall tell atale about Radagast the Brown, and a certain pig at acorn time."

Thus, Gandalf began to speak in familiar storyteller's tones thatcarried his listeners far away. Though Frodo felt the cold and a threatof frost whispering at his back, the campfire held the night at bay.What a simple, wondrous thing it was to simply sit in the warmth of afire with friendly voices at hand, an embrace of comforting sound.

And when the tales were done, Pippin unwrapped the last small parcel,to reveal nine sprigs of holly and mistletoe tied in bright red ribbon.

"It's nothing fancy, mind," said Pippin, suddenly bashful as all eyesturned to him. "But some say holly and mistletoe will keep off evilthings. Ill luck and whatnot. You don't suppose it's a silly idea, doyou?"

He asked of the group at large, but seeing the warmth in Gandalf's eyesand the twinkle in Strider's, Frodo answered for them all.

Thus, when they fared forth into the wilds once more, with no hope ofYule feasts or Yule logs in sight, each of the Fellowship wore a sprigof mistletoe and holly, cheerily tied in bows of crimson ribbon.</p>